


Five Beers for Forgiveness and the Future

by Banshi13



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Angst, Drunken Confessions, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-14
Updated: 2018-09-14
Packaged: 2019-07-12 01:10:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15984389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Banshi13/pseuds/Banshi13
Summary: Steve was sure the crack he heard as Danny set the bottle down was actually his heart.  He wandered over silently until he was standing by Danny’s chair and rested a hand on the back of it, leaning down just a little.  “Hey, partner,” Steve glanced at the beer bottles on the table, “how’re you doing?”





	Five Beers for Forgiveness and the Future

**Author's Note:**

> September 11 is a day that I personally recognize every year, in some form or fashion. This is never an easy day, and even though I didn’t know anyone who died, and I didn’t know anyone who knew anyone who passed away that day, it’s still a day that I hold very close because it was the day where everyone’s lives as they knew it, changed. There are very, very difficult images that still haunt me. I was old enough to watch everything play out live, to remember the news casts and people running as the towers fell. I still remember feeling absolutely numb as I watched the first person jump from the towers. I couldn’t imagine myself in that person’s place, or any of their places, knowing that my choices were waiting to die until the tower collapsed, or take matters into my own hands and end it myself.
> 
> So, I decided to create, and this is what came from that need to write. I don’t feel it’s my best work, but I’m okay with how it turned out. As always, reviews are my chocolate, and if you feel the need or desire, feel free to write in the comments where you were on 9/11.
> 
> _Disclaimer: Hawaii Five-O, as well as the characters found within the series, are owned by CBS Productions, K/O Paper Products, and 101st Street Productions. No profit is being made off this work._

**Hawaii Five-O**

Steve slowly and quietly inched the door to Danny's house open, peaking through the crack for a few moments before entering the living room and softly shutting the door behind him. He turned and leaned against it for a few moments, just looking at the man sitting at the kitchen table across from him, four beer bottles, presumably empty and sitting in front of him while a fifth was nestled between his fingers. Steve watched as Danny lifted the bottle to his lips, tipped it back, and swallowed before he tilted his head and gave Steve a mournful look.

Steve was sure the crack he heard as Danny set the bottle down was actually his heart. He wandered over silently until he was standing by Danny's chair and rested a hand on the back of it, leaning down just a little. "Hey, partner," Steve glanced at the beer bottles on the table, "how're you doing?"

Danny shrugged in answer, his gaze falling to the wooden surface of the table. "Why're here?" he managed.

"Grace texted me, said she was a little worried about you. She hadn't heard from you all day," Steve kept his face kind, open, understanding. "She knows how hard this day is for you." Danny heaved out a sigh and shook his head, his chin dipping lower against his chest almost looking like a chastised child. "S'my fault," he murmured. "Makin' her worry… shouldn' make her worry, Steve. S'all m'fault."

Somehow, Steve knew Danny's guilt went a little further than his daughter in this case. "Not your fault, Danny. Not your fault at all, okay?"

"It is though," Danny lifted a slow hand to his beer bottle again, "Grace… oth'r Grace, Matty… you one day if you stay." His face crumpled, and Steve took the opportunity to move the bottle well out of reach with one hand, while he moved the hand that had been resting on Danny's chair to his friend's neck, squeezing it gently. "No, Danny. No, none of that is your fault. Your kids are great; they're healthy, and happy, and safe, all because of you, because you love them so much, Danny. And Grace Tilwell and Matty… Danny, they made their own choices. Grace knew the risks of being a cop and working the kinds of cases she worked. Matty…" Steve just shook his head, because what could he say about a guy who had everything going for him but who made the stupidest decision he possibly could have made getting involved with drug cartels?

"'ast thing she said was m'name," Danny murmured. "Just 'Danny'. And she looked at me, wanted me t-to fix it, to fix her, save her and I couldn't." Blue eyes that were filled with so much pain, more pain than Steve had ever seen, squeezed closed. "I really cared 'bout her, y'know? Loved her, even, even if maybe I wasn' s'pposed to cuz of Rachel but I – she was a good person Steve, an' she didn't deserve that. She didn't, and I didn't – the only reason I lived was cuz all the police and EMS and everyone that was s'pposed to come help us got called to the towers." Danny's shoulders shook as he tried to hide his tears. "3,000 people and Grace died that day but not me… not me, Steve, an' I should've been able to save her at least, that was m'job. S'what I told her family I'd always do, and I didn't!"

Steve did the only thing he could do in the moment and gathered Danny close to him, resting his chin on his head as his partner sobbed drunken tears into his shirt. He knew September 11th was a difficult day for Danny to get through, but Steve hadn't before seen Danny quite this bad. "What happened today, Danno? Hm? You see someone, talk to somebody? What got you thinking like this, huh? And drinking this much?" What indeed. Before Danny had given Steve half his liver, four or five beers wouldn't have made a dent, but now, even two years after the surgery, both men, especially Steve since he was the organ receiver, were encouraged to ration their alcohol intake.

No such rationing had occurred tonight.

"Who?" Steve realized Danny was talking, but he couldn't understand the mutterings his partner was making in his shirt. "I'm sorry, buddy, I didn't hear you. Who'd you say you'd talked to?"

"Gillian, Grace's sister," Danny took a breath, trying to get himself under control. "Grace's mom called – she always does 'round this time – Gillian was in the background, heard her mom talkin' to me…she took the phone, started yellin' at me. She liked me before it all happened." Danny looked up at Steve miserably. "Now she hates me. She blames me." Blue eyes gazed off to the side. "I don't blame her."

"C'mon, Danny," Steve encouraged him softly and tugged at him, "let's go lay down a little while, okay?"

Danny seemed amenable to that suggestion and allowed Steve to direct him to his bedroom. "Take a seat, sit down here, alright? I'm gonna go get you some water and some aspirin." Once Danny was settled on the bed, Steve left him for only a few minutes to head back to the kitchen and grab a glass of water and a bottle of aspirin. Once he returned to the room, he tapped out two pills into his hand and passed the medicine and water to Danny to take, which he did after staring at both for a few seconds longer than necessary, as if trying to discern that they were exactly what Steve told him they were.

"Wanna call Grace," Danny slid back against the pillows and closed his eyes. "Need to know she's okay."

"She's okay, Danny, I promise," Steve calmly shushed him. "I talked to her just before I got here. She's fine, just a little worried about her Danno. I'll tell her you'll call her first thing tomorrow morning, alright?" Steve sat on the bed next to Danny and pulled out his phone, shooting off a text to his surrogate daughter and showing it to Danny as proof. The blonde nodded and then dragged his eyes from the screen to Steve.

"Stay?"

"Not even a question, Danny," Steve smiled at him. "C'mon, scoot over." Steve hadn't known he was staying the night until he'd caught sight of Danny in the kitchen when he'd first entered the house. When he had, Steve knew there was no way he would leave Danny alone that night. He kicked his shoes and socks off, shirked his cargos and climbed into the bed next to the other man, working the sheets and blankets up until they were both snug and comfortable under them. Danny mumbled something about the lights and Steve chuckled. "I think we'll leave the lights on for a little bit. I don't want you getting sick or nauseous because you can't focus on anything." He felt Danny roll towards him and moved his arm just in time to catch Danny as he lifted his head to rest on Steve's chest, Steve slid one arm around Danny's back and lifted his other hand to card his fingers gently through Danny's hair. The man settled against him, letting Steve take his weight.

"I don' want you to die too, cuz of me," Danny whispered. Steve felt Danny's fingers grip his shirt tightly. The SEAL responded by tightening his own hold around Danny. "I won't, Danny. I promise. If anything ever does happen to me, it will never be because of you. It will never be your fault, Danny. Okay?" He winced as Danny pushed himself up, using Steve's chest as leverage so that he could look Steve in the eye. "S'not okay, Steve. I can't lose you… I can't. That's – that's too much. You mean too much. Love you too much. You can't leave, okay?"

Danny may have been drunk, but alcohol often times brought out the underlying words and feelings people wouldn't or couldn't own up to when they were sober. Steve's face softened at his partner's words, the fearful expression on his face, mixed with a pleading gaze that dismantled every single one of Steve's carefully laid defenses. "I won't leave, Danno," Steve pressed a kiss to Danny's forehead, encouraging him to lay back down. "I won't leave. I promise. You're stuck with me, okay? Control issues, bad driving and all; you're stuck with me." He heard what sounded like a muttered 'kay' from Danny and settled back against the pillows, only letting himself fall asleep once he was sure the other man was out like a light.

**Hawaii Five-O**

The first thing Steve noticed when he woke in the morning was that the sunlight was streaming into the room from the wrong direction. The second thing he realized was that he was slightly chilly. It only took him a few moments to right his brain as he cracked first one eye, then the second one open, and he remembered that he was at Danny's house, in Danny's room, in Danny's bed.

Except there was no Danny.

At least until Steve heard the toilet flush in the bathroom and not long after, the telltale signs of teeth being brushed. He had to chuckle quietly to himself; Steve could only imagine how Danny was feeling this morning, the utterly gross sensation of a mouth fuzzy with the after taste of alcohol and not even so much as rinsing it before he passed out the previous night. He made himself comfortable, tucking himself underneath the blankets as he waited for Danny to come back into the bedroom. When the door to the bathroom opened and the detective took stock of the situation, Steve only grinned lightly at him.

"How's your head?"

"Don't ask," Danny groaned and held a hand up against his eyes as he made his way slowly and carefully back to the bed. Steve took pity on him and moved over to the other side so Danny didn't have to walk all the way around it. The bed dipped as the blonde dropped roughly on the mattress. "What did I do last night?"

"Rough day yesterday, buddy," Steve gave him a look of sympathy, "you came home and told five beer bottles all about it."

Danny moaned, dropping his face into the bed.

"Yep. And I'd just like to say, if I'd done something like that after my surgery, you'd never let me live it down. But," Steve sighed, "like I said; rough day. So, you're forgiven." He assessed his partner quietly. "How are you feeling all around?"

"Headache, a little nauseous…" Danny's hand flopped around as he spoke, "tired… exhausted, really."

"Make's sense," Steve shrugged. "You haven't drank like that in a long time. Your liver's probably giving you hell right now." He moved further down the bed so that his face came even with Danny's and brought his fingers up again to stroke through the blonde tresses. Danny's hair may have thinned, may have darkened over the years, but Steve would never tire of his straight out of Jersey look. "You feeling better after yesterday? You remember much?"

"Yea, I remember, unfortunately," Danny groaned, half in embarrassment at his actions and behavior of the last day, and half in complete contentment at Steve soothing him. "Gotta call Grace."

"Yea, you gotta call Grace, pal, but in a little bit. Wake up first."

And for the next ten minutes, Danny took his advice, happy to just lay in the bed next to Steve and allow someone else to care for him for once. That it was Steve only made him happier, at least until some more of what he'd said in his drunken state gradually began to filter its way back into his brain. His natural instinct was to forget about it, tamp down and bury it; Steve would understand, he wouldn't push for any explanation, now or ever. But there was another side to Danny that was just tired. He was tired of hiding it, and there was really no good reason why he should continue to do so. Steve wouldn't shove him off, he wouldn't abandon him, he wouldn't recoil – Danny knew this, instinctively. Besides, the object of his desires had just stayed the night with him, in Danny's bed no less, and he hadn't blinked an eye. In fact, he looked quite at home there. Danny looked up, silently taking a breath.

"So, I think I said some stuff last night."

"…you said a lot of stuff last night, Danny. You were hurting. I get it, man, you don't owe me an explanation."

Score one for Danny's good instincts. "I think I kinda do though," Danny maneuvered his face so that he was looking at Steve, piercing blue against forest hazel, both colors animated in the morning light. "I told you I loved you?"

"Yea, so what?" Steve frowned. "We tell each other that all the time. That's nothing new."

"It is for me." Danny held his breath, feeling Steve's fingers stop their path through his hair and very nearly moaned at the loss; it'd felt so good. "I… haven't felt this way for very long," he continued carefully, so, so carefully, so quietly. The last thing he needed was for Steve to rabbit right out the door, or SEAL as it were, because while Danny knew Steve wouldn't be horrified at such a revelation, he also knew that Steve had about as good a track record with relationships as he did. "Since last Christmas, actually is when I think I started maybe meaning the 'I love you' differently."

"That's nine months, Danny." Steve quirked an eyebrow at him. "Nine months is a long time." The unspoken question was as loud as if Steve had asked it through a bullhorn: _Why did you wait so long to tell me?_

"Not really – we had a lot going on; I was recovering, the restaurant got broken into, we had the Russians off our port bow-, " Steve snorted. "Do not laugh, Steven, that was serious!" Danny huffed before continuing. "And we've been concentrating on getting the restaurant ready, and even though Melissa and I ended things I wasn't sure where you were with Lynn, not to mention I think we'll be dealing with one office romance between Junior and Tani before it's all said and done."

"And you didn't want to add on another?" Steve snickered to himself, moving his fingers through Danny's hair again. "Danny, the whole island of Oahu thinks we secretly married each other at some point. You know HPD has bets on who bottoms?"

"That'd be you." Danny smirked. Steve did not take the bait. He was not going to be the chum today, thank you very much.

"You're actually winning the pot on that one, buddy."

"That is because I am shorter and therefore automatically thought of as the more submissive between us, but you and I both know different. Winning the pot and what actually happens are two different things."

"Well, I don't know if you've noticed Danny, but nothing has happened yet."

"Yet?" Danny lifted his head, leveling a gaze at Steve. "Yet," he murmured, feeling out how the word sounded and smiling as he spoke again. "Yet, as in, you're inferring that something will, eventually, happen?" Steve made a non-committal noise and Danny rolled to his side and propped himself up on an elbow, looking at Steve the way he would a perp when he was trying to figure out if they were lying or not. "You're scarily okay with this. You're not baying to run out of the room Roadrunner style? This doesn't freak you out at all?"

"I… y'know, it's – I'm desensitized to it. These rumors and innuendos have been going for nearly ten years, Danny, it's not like it's the first time I've ever had to consider it." Steve mirrored Danny's position. "This is just the first time that maybe I'm letting myself admit that there's a there… there." He took in Danny's less than impressed expression. "What?"

"What _what_?"

" _What_ what?"

"There's a _there there_?" Danny rolled his eyes. "Way to sweep me off my feet, Babe, really."

Steve pouted a bit, though it was all for show. "Well it's not like I was exactly prepared to discuss this with you this morning, Danny. If anything, I thought we'd be talking about Grace Tilwell, and most of that talking would involve me trying to get through your thick skull that what happened wasn't your fault and to stop beating yourself up about it." Steve laid his head against the pillow, looking quietly at Danny as Danny gazed silently back at him, listening. "It's the same as I told you when Matty died," Steve continued softly, "you can't second guess your decision. You can't do that to yourself. I'm not gonna let you. You're no more at fault for what happened to Grace than you are for surviving because those assholes hijacked planes and flew them into the towers and the Pentagon." He shook his head sadly. "S'not your fault, Danny."

"Yea, well," Danny breathed after a few quiet moments, "not everyone sees it that way."

Steve couldn't argue that, unfortunately, so he simply segued into his next point. "And if anything ever happens to me – I get hurt, or worse – I never want you to blame yourself, Danny, or let anyone else blame you." His hand inched towards Danny's and grasped it firmly. "I'll even put it in my will: 'Don't Blame Danny'." Steve was glad to see the smile crack through as well as a chuckle from the man. "It'll have its own clause and everything so you can easily find it if you need a reminder or two."

"I feel like I remember you saying something like that last night."

"Yea, well, you were drunk," Steve grinned, "and you're pretty thick-headed when you're sober, so, I wanted to make sure it sank in this time."

Danny closed his eyes and breathed deeply, squeezing his hand around Steve's. "Consider it sunk." He missed the smile being leveled at him but felt Steve's thumb sliding across the ridge of hand.

"Gonna call Grace?"

Danny opened his eyes and swallowed at the openness he saw reflected back at him. It struck him that Steve was so vulnerable in this moment, even though it had been Danny to blurt out his innermost feelings. But Steve was still there, he wasn't running out the door or shutting himself away or swimming through the ocean to escape the present scenario. He was there, and that was saying something. It said a lot.

"Danny?"

"Hm?" Danny shook himself. "Yea?"

"Grace; are you going to call her?"

Danny inched closer to his partner until his nose was brushed gently against Steve's.

"In a minute."


End file.
